


Rebel Scum

by Cybertronian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Clones, Drama, Family, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13278087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybertronian/pseuds/Cybertronian
Summary: After Gregor and Wolffe go missing, Rex would go to the edge of the universe itself to find his brothers and bring them back safely. (And maybe make a new clone friend along the way).





	1. Chapter 1

_LOG #43: If there’s one painful truth I’ve learned from this terrible war, it’s that I can’t save all of my clone brothers. Some of our generals may just see us as replaceable numbers with identical faces, but there’s so much more. We’re kin. These men are family to me. I love them all. And it haunts me every day to remember the ones I had to leave behind. The injured comrades I couldn’t do anything for, watching helplessly as they died in my arms. The corpses scattered across the battlefield. Dead brothers. I wish I could save them all. –Capt. Rex, CT-7567_

“Rex,” Wolffe’s flickering hologram said, his voice low and nearly unintelligible. His body language was tense, his face anxious. “Something’s wrong. Gregor and I are investigating a…” The transmission crackled and faded out. Rex played it again and again, but he wasn’t really listening anymore. He must’ve listened to it one hundred times by now. Eventually, he shut it off and put his face in his hands, an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness rising within him, threatening to bury him in despair and frustration until was pulled out of his ruminations by a loud knock at the door.

“Hey, are you in there?” Hera called.

Rex rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I’m here, General! Come in,” he called.

 The door slid open and Hera walked across the threshold, followed by Sabine. They both looked like they hadn’t slept in days. Hera looked around the cramped room Rex shared with Kallus, her eyes lingering on the sketched maps strewn across Rex’s bed.

 “I know things have been hard for you lately, but we need all the help we can get on this supply run,” Hera said. “The rebel cell on Devaron is counting on us. We’re low on numbers again.”

 Rex sighed and looked down at his feet, feeling ashamed at his lack of involvement over the past few days. But, he couldn’t abandon Wolffe and Gregor now. He couldn’t fail them.

 “What if there was something I missed on Tatooine?” Rex said, avoiding Hera’s gaze. “Some clue— _anything.”_

Truth was, he’d scoured his friends’ makeshift hovel in the desert from top to bottom before searching the streets of Mos Eisley, discreetly asking people if they knew of any clones in the area. He’d spent more than a day on that cursed dustball. It seemed unlikely that he missed something major, but the urge to go back wouldn’t leave him.

 Hera and Sabine exchanged glances before Hera lowered herself next to Rex on the narrow bed with a sigh. “Rex,” she said gently. “Tatooine is a dangerous, lawless place. They knew the risk they were taking when they moved there from Seelos. If they got caught up in some local drama…”

 “I-I can’t give up on them,” Rex looked Hera in the eyes, blinking back tears. “They’re the only family I have left.”

 Hera rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You do what you think is best. Stay in touch with us, okay?”

 Rex nodded, giving her a wan smile.

 “Be careful,” Sabine said. “I wish I could go with you, but things are chaotic right now.”

 After they bid him farewell, Rex packed his things, suddenly filled with newfound determination. His stressful dilemma began a few days ago when he received the strange, unfinished message from Wolffe. After failing to get in contact with them at their new hideout, he struck out for Tatooine on his own, praying that something terrible hadn’t happened.

 But, when he reached their home (an unsightly concoction of old, abandoned ships and speeders piled high in the dunes), he found the place deserted. The working ship they used to leave Seelos was nowhere in sight. He braved the messy interior only to find signs of Wolffe and Gregor packing their food, clothes, and weapons in a hurry. Rex spent hours and hours flying around the desert and wandering through Mos Eisley, but he hit dead end after dead end. His fellow clones had vanished. Gone. And all he had was a shoddy message that told him nothing.

 He still wasn’t convinced that he’d done all he could. He needed to go back and try again, talk to more people at the spaceport. They _had_ to be there somewhere.

 ***

 Unfortunately, Rex’s trip on Tatooine was interrupted by a sandstorm that seemed to kick up out of nowhere as he flew over the hot dunes. It didn’t linger, but it was enough to do some serious damage to the old junker he’d left Yavin 4 in. The engine sputtered and stalled, then something gave out in the back. The ship careened toward the ground, spinning uncontrollably as lights blinked and alarms blared.

 Rex wasn’t sure how he survived the crash, but he found himself hanging upside down in the debris and covered in blood a moment later. Pain seemed to engulf nearly every part of his body, but he could still move. He freed his pinned leg and wrestled out of his safety straps before falling to the ground, groaning. The air was thick with smoke and he could hear flames roaring nearby, so he frantically crawled forward and didn’t stop until he was a good distance from the smoldering ship. He rested in the sand, clutching his ribs and wheezing.

 So, _this_ was how his story ended.

 Not in a blaze of fiery glory during a space battle or in a storm of blaster fire in a grueling ground battle. Not even rotting away in a nightmarish prison or labor camp somewhere. No. Even after so many brushes with death in his lifetime, Rex was going to meet his end in the middle of the hottest, most barren place he’d ever seen, surrounded by kilometers and kilometers of sand as far as the eye could see. There wasn’t a Stormtrooper, Deathtrooper, and TIE fighter in sight. Just sand.

 His breath came out in ragged gasps, tears streaking his bruised, dirty face. But, he wasn’t weeping for his own life. He wept because he’d failed Wolffe and Gregor. He’d die out here alone after succumbing to his wounds or the stifling heat…and no one would find the others. No one could save them if they were in distress.

 As he looked out over the land, Rex noticed something ahead of him, far away between the dunes. He squinted, trying to make out what it could be. Was it a trick of the desert? No, it looked so real…like a couple of buildings. Perhaps a moisture farm.

 He shakily climbed to his feet, the suns blaring down upon him, baking his skin. Now that he realized he might not be alone out here, his mind was clearer despite the pain. He couldn’t give up yet. He’d been in situations like this before. He was a survivor.

 To his frustration, he only made it a few steps before collapsing onto the ground, overcome with dizziness and agony. He lay there, drenched in sweat and blood, his vision fading as everything muted around him.

 ***

 When Rex came to, he was lying face up…still in pain, but not as bad as it had been before. He touched his head, surprised to find a thick bandage there, as well as on his arm. They were sloppily tied, but at least his wounds were dressed. He slowly sat up and took in his surroundings. He was sitting near a large ship…some sort of attack vessel by the looks of it. A large, clunky sandcrawler rolled away in the distance.

 “Uh---hello?” Rex called.

 Silence.

 He turned toward the sandcrawler, almost desperate enough to chase after it and beg the Jawas for help, but he was startled by a loud clang. He turned back to the ship just in time to see a man dressed in battered Mandalorian armor descending the ramp, his tattered cape blowing in the breeze, a long blaster rifle at his side and a travel pack slung over his shoulder. He stopped a few meters away from Rex and dropped the pack in front of him.

 “Saw you crash and thought I’d take a look,” the man said, his voice cold and intimidating behind his mask…but so familiar. “You’re supposed to take cover during a sandstorm, not fly into it.”

 Rex touched his bandaged head again. “You saved my life,” he said, feeling so relieved he practically wanted to hug the stranger. “Thank you. I-I don’t know how I can ever…kriff…thank you. What’s your name?”

 The man remained silent for a moment, tilting his head slightly and observing Rex like he was some sort of anomaly. “Boba Fett.”

 “Fett? Like the clone template?” Rex was taken aback. Strangely, he didn’t know much about Jango Fett, the man who provided his genes for the entire clone army. He never considered that Jango had a family of his own.

 “I’m his son.” There was a hint of tension in Fett’s voice.

 “So, I guess that makes us half-brothers?” Rex said, trying to lighten the mood.

 “I’m not one of you,” Fett retorted, his cool demeanor starting to crack. “I have a name, not a number.”

 “So do I,” Rex said, “I’m Rex. We gave eachother names. We’re the same, but unique…” He trailed off, remembering all of those blissful days with Wolffe and Gregor on Seelos. Laughing for hours on the balcony and watching the sunset. Telling stories about the war.

 Fett muttered something and turned away, strolling back to the ship.

 “Wait!” Rex said, stumbling after him. He reached out, but Fett spun around, aiming his blaster at Rex’s face. Rex threw his hands up. “Hey, whoa! I wasn’t going to try anything. I just need help getting to Mos Eisley. I don’t know my way around Tatooine very well.”

 Fett lowered his weapon a little bit and pointed toward the sandcrawler. “That particular company is known for their openness. Take the bag and make sure to get a lift before dark,” Fett said. When Rex didn't react, he added, “Or I can take you to a nearby trading station north of here. That's it.” Now he sounded impatient, like he wanted to get rid of Rex as soon as possible. 

 Rex’s mind reeled as Fett walked up the ramp. He had no ship. No way to communicate with Hera. He didn’t even know where he was going and how he was would get back to the base. He picked up the travel bag and tried to stay calm, on the verge of having a meltdown. He was normally fine under pressure, but today was extra terrible, like the universe was conspiring against him at every turn. When he looked up, Fett was watching him, arms folded.

Fett sighed. “I’m on my way to Takodana. Need to deliver something from the Jawas,” he said. “It’s more hospitable than this trash planet. Maz likes her patrons. Fixes them with ships, food, and credits if she really likes them.”

 “Oh,” Rex said, only half listening to what Fett was saying. “Best of luck to you.”

 Fett shook his head and turned around. “I’m not going to Mos Eisley, but if you want a ride to Takodana, you have three seconds to get on the kriffing ship before I change my mind.”

 ***

 Fett’s ship was unlike anything Rex had flown in. They took off so quickly from Tatooine that Rex barely had time to orient himself as the ship shifted into its vertical flying position. He gripped the armrests of his seat. Fett didn’t waste a second before punching it to lightspeed.

 As they drifted through hyperspace in silence, Rex tried to think of something to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. Luckily, Fett broke the silence by talking about his ship ( _Slave I_ as he called it). As Fett boasted about the specs, it became obvious that it was outfitted to be the most deadly, maneuverable vehicle possible, loaded with tons of weapons. Rex wasn't sure if Fett was trying to impress him or intimidate him. When the silence returned, Rex took a deep breath and focused on the swirling world of hyperspace beyond the window, willing the trip to go faster. He just needed to find a ship on this Takodana place and get back to Yavin 4 to regroup. Things would be okay. He'd been through far worse. 

 Fett tapped some buttons on his controls and a bright image popped up, flooding the dark cockpit in blue light. He cycled through a databank before pulling up something that made Rex break out in a nervous sweat. Rex’s heart skipped a beat as he stared at his name and picture beneath the Imperial cog, a descriptive block of text off to the right.

 “CT-7567,” Fett said, leaning back in his chair. “Your reward is chump change, but that’s not what interests me about you.”

 "Look--” Rex tried, but Fett ignored him.

 “You have ties to the infamous _Ghost,_ ” Fett continued. “The reward for your friend ISB-021 is substantial. With a little bit of…coaxing…you could probably provide some useful info about his whereabouts, eh? Grand Admiral Thrawn misses him.”

 “You’re a bounty hunter.”

 Rex had walked right into trouble and now he was helpless, flying through hyperspace with someone who probably wouldn’t hesitate to torture information out of him. There was no way he could overpower Fett in his injured state (or any state, really). He was putting the Rebellion at risk.

 “What did you think I was?” Fett said, turning off the projection.

 “Someone who wouldn’t turn in their own family to the Empire, at the very least,” Rex replied wearily.

 “We’re _not_ family. Never have been, never will be,” Fett said. “Why do you waste time with the Rebellion when you could be living in the upper levels of Coruscant? I thought the Empire treats you retired clones well.”

 “The Empire is vile,” Rex said, his voice rising. “I just want a better future for the galaxy. A place where people aren’t being oppressed. My loyalty has always been to the Republic.”

 Fett laughed, not even trying to hide his disgust. “The Republic.”

 "I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Rex muttered. He leaned back and sighed, trying to enjoy his last moments of peace.

***

 They came out of hyperspace over a beautiful planet and glided low over lush, rolling mountains and sparkling rivers. The sun blazed in a clear, azure sky. Fett alighted the ship near a lake and dug a strange, dusty droid out of a storage compartment before lowering the ramp. Rex grabbed his bag and nervously followed him outside, looking around at the dense foliage and wondering how far he’d get before Fett caught him.

 Fett looked back at him over his shoulder. “Relax, rebel. If you were my target, you’d be in a holding cell.”

 Rex immediately felt relief wash over him, but he still kept his guard up, keeping a safe distance from Fett as they strolled toward a towering stone edifice. Rex looked in awe at the countless, colorful flags hanging over the courtyard. When they walked inside, Rex found himself in a crowded cantina filled with humans and aliens of every kind. Spirits were high as the visitors laughed, ate, played games, and listened to a jaunty band.

 Rex raised his eyebrows in surprise as people threw nervous glances at Fett. For a second, the room got noticeably quieter. A group of Weequays even left their table and ran out the door.

 “This is where I do my business and you get lost,” Fett told Rex. He pointed to a small, wrinkled alien wearing a colorful tunic and an odd set of goggles. She was laughing with an Iridonian Zabrak at the bar. “That’s Maz Kanata. She can help you.”

 “I appreciate your assistance, Fett,” Rex said. “I really mean it. Thank you for caring.”

 “Good luck in your travels,” Fett said. His tone had lost its bitter edge, coming across as surprisingly soft for the first time. He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, but then he shifted the droid under his arm and marched across the room to a gruff-looking pair of Twi’lek men. Rex watched him go, wishing they could’ve connected better. He wondered what it was like for Fett to see so many men who were basically Jango wandering around the galaxy over the years. Did it trouble him? How much did Fett look like his father…like Rex?

 Rex didn’t have much time to dwell on it. He needed to find his friends and get back to the Rebellion. Even now, he couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling of guilt over leaving Hera. He limped over to Maz Kanata, who stopped her conversation and looked at him in pity.

 “And what happened to you, my friend?”

 ***

 Rex wasn’t too eager to divulge too many details about his personal situation, especially after the conversation aboard _Slave I,_ but Maz had a calming, trustworthy vibe surrounding her. Rex didn’t know how to describe it, but he knew she was a friend, infinitely wise and sympathetic, like she knew exactly what he was going through.

 Maz patched him up in a less noisy area of the castle, listening patiently as he told her about Wolffe and Gregor’s disappearance on Tatooine. He jerked back in amazement when she slowly pressed an instrument over his leg and the pain subsided.

 “Hold still…. there,” Maz said. Then she pulled up her goggles and regarded Rex, studying him carefully. “It sounds like you need a bounty hunter.”

 Rex stole a glance across the room at the unsavory, rough crowd. His eyes lingered on Fett, who was now sitting alone, helmet on, with his head down on the table. “I—think I’m okay. Just need a ship.”

 “Don’t be too put off by these folks, Rex,” Maz said. “I’ve been hosting all sorts of criminals and outcasts for centuries. Assassins, pirates, smugglers, bounty hunters… rebels. Most of them aren’t so bad once you get to know them.”

 Rex sighed. “I suppose I’m running out of options. But, aren’t hunters expensive? I don’t have any credits.”

 “Depends on how good they are.” Maz beckoned for one of the servers to bring Rex some food. “You just relax and I’ll see what I can do.” She smiled at him, a knowing gleam in her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

_Log #47: If we think about our existence too much, it’s enough to crush our morale. Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan may try to tell me that I’m just as important as them, just as valued. While they may be sincere, there’s the harsh reality that we as clones are expendable to the Republic. It’s not a happy thought, but sometimes it’s best to face the truth instead of live in denial. We’re created in labs. We live short lives. If a lot of us die during a battle, they can always make more. That’s why there are big funerals for the Jedi, but not for us. We live, we fight, we die. That’s what we were made for. -Capt. Rex, CT-7567_

The current galaxy was a strikingly cold, unforgiving place, full of horrifying violence and turmoil, heartbreak and anguish. Battle after battle raged with no end in sight. The Empire strangled the life out of nearly every planet, terrorizing its citizens and spreading bloodshed and fear to even the most peaceful systems. 

But, where there was tyranny, there were always brave people willing to fight back, even sacrificing their lives for a better future…a future where the Republic returned and freedom was restored. Every day, more rebel cells were born. The movement was sweeping across the galaxy. 

And then there were places like Maz’s castle. 

Rex was forever grateful for the hospitality, but it was dismaying to see so many people (mostly pirates, smugglers, and other scoundrels) who didn’t appear to care about the Rebellion _or_ Empire. Or anything, really. They were there to make money and live it up, no matter how bad the state of the galaxy was. No matter how many innocent people the Empire killed.

Normally, it didn’t bother Rex that much. There would always be a robust criminal underworld. But, after the last few grueling months had brought staggering causalities to the core rebels stationed on Yavin 4, people he knew closely and worked with every day, he couldn’t stomach the indifference anymore. 

Which is why he felt a bit conflicted when Maz hired Boba Fett, the prime example of someone with no allegiance, to help him find Gregor and Wolffe. 

Fett immediately declined, saying he didn’t have time for fluff jobs, but Maz threw some type of hyperdrive part onto her offer and Fett gladly changed his mind. (But, he still didn’t seem too happy about the part of the deal that involved Rex going with him). 

As they prepared to leave Takodana, Rex couldn’t help asking Maz why _. Why him? Why ME?_ Maz brushed him off and said that credits weren’t an issue for someone who’s been in the game for centuries, but Rex wasn’t convinced. His face must’ve shown it because Maz let out a long sigh and sat on a crate. She waited until Fett went outside before speaking to Rex.

“You want to find your friends,” she said. “I admire people with unwavering determination.”

“Thanks,” Rex said. “But, I barely…”

“Jango Fett was a good friend of mine,” Maz said, staring off into the distance, a hint of sadness in her voice. “He visited this place a lot, many times with Boba in tow. Boba was such a sweet child…kind, happy, energetic, always dreaming of big adventures. Unfortunately, the loss of his father tuned him down a tragic road. The galaxy made him cruel. But, I think _you_ can finally be the person who helps him.”

“What?”

“Your bond as clone brothers is stronger than you know. And…” she paused and beckoned Rex to lean down closer. “He could make a valuable member of the Rebel Alliance…” 

Rex was about to say how unlikely that was, but then he remembered Agent Kallus. And AP-5. And Wedge. And countless other unlikely allies. 

“I’ll try,” he said. He had no idea _how,_ but he guessed he could figure something out. 

Maz smiled. “Good. Now find your friends, Captain Rex.” 

*** 

Rex groaned inwardly when he stepped out into the blazing Tatooine desert again. He’d seen enough of this wasteland to last a lifetime. 

He and Fett searched around Wolffe and Gregor’s strange abode (or more like Rex awkwardly followed Fett around while he searched every square meter, carelessly throwing things out of the way). Rex hung back when they went into the eating area, studying Fett more closely as he dug through a pile of old droid parts. 

His armor was well worn, riddled with chips, dents, and blaster marks. Rex wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Mandalorian armor in such a shape before. Fett probably had a thousand fascinating stories to go along with it, especially about those braids he wore over his shoulder. 

Fett was an extremely interesting person to Rex. Judging by the reactions of patrons back in Maz’s castle, he seemed to carry a fair amount of notoriety with him. Rex wanted to ask him a lot of questions, but he wasn’t sure if Fett would take kindly to them. So, he opted for talking about his own life to break the deafening silence as they went from room to room. He talked about Kamino, his training, humorous mishaps with Anakin and Ahsoka, and his time on Seelos with Wolffe and Gregor. 

Fett remained silent, but Rex could’ve sworn he tensed up a little when he talked about Kamino. 

***

After finding nothing of interest in the hideout, they flew off to Mos Eisley. Before walking out into the noisy, crowded streets of the notorious spaceport, Fett dug up an old, battered pilot’s helmet and told Rex to put it on, telling him that he shouldn’t take any risks. Rex ventured to ask for a spare blaster, too, not keen on being dead weight if they ran into trouble. Fett refused, but after a brief back-and-forth, he finally relented and handed him an old pistol. But, not before warning Rex that if he even thought about betraying him, there would be hell to pay. 

Rex stayed close to Fett as they traversed the dusty roads, trying to avoid getting run over by speeders and animals. They headed toward the cantina, the one place Rex hadn’t dared set food in when he originally began his search. The crowds were some of the roughest around and Rex didn’t want any trouble. He’d opened the door, glanced around the dim, crowded room, and promptly left after seeing no sign of his friends. 

“Well, look who it is!” a voice said. 

Fett paused and turned toward a young man who was lingering nearby with a tall Wookie. 

“Solo,” Fett said, dipping his head in greeting. 

The man casually sauntered over to them, giving Fett a half-smile, but keeping one hand on his holstered blaster. Fett merely folded his arms. 

“So, you’re back in business after your…incident?” Solo said, his eyes flicking to Rex. “And with a trainee or something? Well, good. I hear Greedo is looking to move up the ranks. And you know what a formidable bounty hunter that guy is.” 

“Not now, Solo,” Fett said. He sounded weary. “I’m looking for two clones. Have you seen them?” 

Solo’s eyes lit up at the mention of the clones. He stroked his chin, studying Fett carefully like he was ruminating over what to say next. 

“My information in exchange for a small favor?” Solo asked. 

“And what’s that?”

Solo nodded toward the cantina. “We talk about it over some drinks. Your treat.”  

***

The establishment was loud and overcrowded, even at this time of day. Nearly every table and stool was occupied. Solo, Fett, Rex, and the Wookie (“Chewie,” as Solo called him) squeezed into a booth near the window as people around them glanced uneasily at Fett, just like on Takodana. 

It was an awkward gathering, to say the least. 

Solo propped his feet up on the table and took a swig from his glass while Rex held a mug of blue milk. Fett, who hadn’t ordered anything for himself, sat across from Solo, tapping his blaster as he waited for Solo to speak.

"Don’t you ever wonder what happened with us?” Solo asked. “You, Lando, and I…those were the good days.”

“I don’t care,” Fett said. “Now, hurry up and tell me about the clones.” 

Rex thought he saw a flash of hurt on Solo’s face, but it passed so quickly that he might’ve imagined it. Solo put his feet down and leaned closer. 

“I was playing sabacc in here one day. Cornelius Evazan, Ponda Baba, and this new woman, never told me her name. She was a defector from some terrorist cell called the Partisans. She was telling me how she bailed when they started a bio weapon project.” 

Now, Rex’s curiosity was piqued. “Wait…Saw Gerrera’s Partisans?” 

“I guess,” Solo said, shrugging. “Anyway, these two old clones were sitting nearby and must’ve overheard. One of them came over to our table and asked the woman for more information. All she said was that these Partisans kept going to the Ring of Kafrene to get supplies.”

“And what were they planning to do with the weapons?” Rex asked, his mind reeling. If this ended up being true, they had a huge problem on their hands. The Rebellion needed to know about this as soon as possible. 

“Kill Imperials, I suppose. She mentioned something about affiliated cells on Coruscant,” Solo said. 

Fett stood up. “Let’s go, Rex.” 

He walked away, leaving Rex scrambling after him. The suns were setting now, washing the sandy buildings of Mos Eisley in an orange glow. The air was starting to grow chill. 

“Hey, Fett!” Solo said, rushing out to catch up to them before they left. He massaged his neck, suddenly looking unsure of himself as he stood in front of the cantina, visibly nervous and struggling to get his words out. He walked closer to Fett. “I want to fix things, but you need to help me understand. You’ve closed yourself off. I can’t—“ 

“Goodbye, Solo,” Fett said quietly. With that, he continued on his way. Rex thanked Solo for his help before following Fett back to the ship. 

*** 

As they flew to the Ring of Kafrene, Rex was in a minor state of panic. The dropped mention of Saw Gerrera’s rebels working on some sort of illicit weapon project made him nervous, especially since they’d been getting more and more extreme since splitting with the main Rebellion. It had caused Mon Mothma many a headache, especially when she was trying to work with other politicians on peaceful, diplomatic solutions, only resorting to violence when it was absolutely necessary. If the Partisans did something more deadly and widespread than their usual guerilla operations, it could mess up the entire movement. 

And then there was Gregor and Wolffe. As more and more pieces of the puzzle came together, Rex didn’t doubt that the “investigation” they’d mentioned in the transmission was referring to the Partisans. 

He was still deep in thought, even as he and Fett pushed through the bustling streets of Kafrene. Humans and aliens of all types shuffled along, looking tired and downcast as ships sailed overhead. The whole place was an eclectic concoction of towering steel buildings with smaller complexes shoved into every available space. Hastily built walkways crisscrossed this way and that. It looked like they just kept adding more and more poorly built structures on top of eachother, no matter how impractical it was. 

Rex immediately took notice of the Stormtrooper presence. He adjusted his helmet, praying they wouldn’t stop him for a random security check. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” Rex asked. He needed to talk to someone or he was going to stress himself out too much. 

“I know the faces of some of the Partisan scum,” Fett said. “If they’re here, they’ll be in one of the lower districts. The areas with less security.” 

Despite his attempts to push down his anxiety, Rex felt his stomach twist. What if Gregor and Wolffe had been captured by the Empire? What if they were locked in a prison somewhere with no way for Rex to even _find_ them, let alone save them? Or what if they…

Rex stopped in the middle of the road, the lights, colors, and sounds swirling around him as he entertained the grim possibility. The one that he’d subconsciously tried to suppress ever since he first began his search. Fett gently took him by the arm and guided him off the cluttered street and down a quiet alley where they could have some privacy. 

“Rex,” he said, rapping his knuckles on Rex’s helmet. 

“Sorry about that,” Rex said, regaining his composure. He leaned against a pipe and took a deep breath. “What if…what if we never find them?” He trailed off, blinking back tears, glad that Fett couldn’t see his face. 

Fett put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find them.”

“Maz didn’t specify dead or alive in her deal. I guess you don’t lose out either way,” Rex said. 

He immediately regretted the bitterness. He wanted to take comfort in Fett’s words, but part of him wondered how much the bounty hunter even cared. If they found his friends dead, Fett would probably still get paid and continue on with his life like nothing had happened. Even if they didn’t find them at all, he could always find another gig. 

Fett moved away from Rex and absentmindedly ran a hand over his blaster rifle. “I won’t pretend like this job hasn’t been hard for me,” Fett said after a tense pause. “Seeing a clone and knowing that my father would look like you if he’d lived this long…it’s not easy. 

“I’m sorry,” Rex said, not knowing what else to say. He couldn’t imagine the existential anguish that must plague Fett’s mind day to day. He wondered if Fett gave him a helmet back on Tatooine not only to protect Rex’s identity, but to dampen the pain he must feel every time he looked into Rex’s face and saw what could’ve been. 

“And your accelerated aging doesn’t help,” Fett continued, his voice strained. “You’re the only reminder I have left of him. And some day, none of you will be around.” He fell silent and looked down at his feet. 

“Your father will live on forever if you share his memories. Never let those fade away,” Rex said, suddenly thinking of Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan. Unfortunately, most of his good memories were marred by sadness and longing. “Is your---mother still alive?” 

Fett suddenly took a more concentrated interest in his blaster, inspecting it from every angle and brushing off some sand here and there. Finally, he sighed and grabbed his helmet in both hands, getting ready to pull it off. 

But, then he changed his mind and composed himself again. 

“We should keep moving,” he said, leaving Rex wondering what that was all about.

*** 

They continued on their way through the steel labyrinth, sometimes down streets so narrow that Rex had to turn sideways just to squeeze past other foot-travelers. Finally, Fett stopped at the top of a sharply slopped road that led to a large cluster of shacks and far less streetlights. 

Fett observed the area before turning to Rex . He pointed to a nearby tavern that was decorated with flickering neon signs. “I want you to wait in there. This could get ugly.” 

Rex laughed. “I fought in the damn Clone Wars.” 

“I can get this done faster if I go alone,” Fett said. “Just trust me, Rex. I—I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Before Rex could argue, Fett marched away. 

Rex sighed, ambling over to his designated waiting area. He was about to go inside when some sort of commotion broke out with a group of bucketheads up the street he’d just come down. Piercing screams filled the air, causing a chill to race up Rex’s spine. Some denizens took shelter and shuttered their windows, but Rex went to see what was going on. 

If he’d been a cowardly person (or wise, depending on the point of view), he would’ve gone straight back to the tavern and ignored the disturbing scene in front of him. But, the rebel in him couldn’t turn away from the elderly Twi’lek man being beaten to a pulp by Stormtroopers while his family tried to intervene, only to get the same treatment. 

Without thinking twice, Rex ran into the fray, firing at the attackers. He aimed for their non-vital regions, not keen on killing anyone unnecessarily, but it was difficult in close quarters. 

“Run!” Rex yelled at the stunned family as a blaster bolt narrowly missed his head. 

But, backup arrived and quickly apprehended the Twi’leks, bludgeoning them until they stopped trying to resist. Rex’s brave stand didn’t last much longer, either. A couple of troopers got the jump on him and bound his wrists. 

A tall, broad Imperial officer joined the excitement, looking down at Rex and the Twi’lek with cold eyes. He tore off Rex’s helmet and threw it aside. 

“Should we transport them to Cellblock 1-A, sir?” a trooper asked. 

The Imperial squatted down in front of Rex and typed something into a datapad. “Take the alien dirt there. But, this one is getting a more…lengthy transfer,” he said, smirking. “I believe Grand Admiral Thrawn would like a word with CT-7567.” 

*** 

Rex stood against a wall while he was processed before a pair of Stormtroopers hauled him through the streets until they reached a special Imperial port. He was just about to be loaded onto a shuttle when he heard someone call out. 

“Wait!” 

He craned his neck, relieved beyond belief to see Fett walking toward them. He tried to keep an impassive expression while inwardly wanting to crack a joke about Fett taking too long. 

“That prisoner is mine,” Fett said. “I was on my way to Coruscant, but he escaped. I’ll give you the designation number for the--” 

“We’ll take it from here, Fett,” a young Imperial officer said. He’d seemed thrilled ever since being handed the task of transporting Rex to Thrawn, no doubt eager for an opportunity to impress the almighty Grand Admiral. “The Empire can compensate you for meeting us halfway, I’m sure. You have a good track record with Rebel scum.” 

Fett looked around the docking bay and tightened his grip on his blaster. For a moment, Rex wondered if he would actually try to fight, but he was far too outnumbered. And he probably didn’t want to lose favor with the Empire, much to Rex’s dismay. 

Fett bowed his head. 

“Find them,” Rex said as he was pushed up the ramp. “I don’t care what happens to me, just find them.” 

He wished he could see Fett’s face, but all he could do was stare at that cold Mandalorian mask, hoping Fett would come through for him. 


End file.
